Nothing is Announced
by hannahjap
Summary: Marisa is a brilliant witch, but struggles to understand her neighbours. Alice prefers to remain shut-off and save her emotions for inanimate objects. Patchouli is true to her immovable nickname. They all need to learn how others think, or suffer for it.
1. The Melancholy Girl in the Forest

**One. – The Melancholy Girl in the Forest**

_Poor little tsundere girl, but how can she love you back if you won't tell her?_

Sitting alone, by the window, Alice fiddled with a needle and thread. She was having trouble pushing the thread through the eye of the needle, and each time she made an attempt, the end frayed a little more. Occasionally she would stop to trim the tattered section, slowly but surely eating away at the length of her string. Eventually she realised that the thread had been cut back to little more than five inches, and she slammed it down heavily upon the window sill beside her. Distraction; stealing her time and her mind away. Hoping to restore some mental peace she positioned herself to gaze out of the window into the somehow densely pleasant landscape of the forest. It held an odd power of reassurance over her to see the gnarly trees curled about one another in an almost friendly, tender way. Why again did other people find the forest foreboding..? Alice sat there, comforting herself, for quite some time. It was a while before her stomach bothered her and she realised she had not eaten since early that morning. Irritably, she strode through to her small kitchen to prepare something.

Alice lived by herself in a house which sat in the forest. The location, added to her often slightly frosty manner, provided her with few visitors. She had heard it said once; not to her, not about her, just said; that it was always a shame when a pretty girl didn't know how to smile. And she had wondered for a little while afterwards if she would be happier if she were to smile more often, but she did not believe very much that anyone wanted to see her smile, or indeed, that she was one of those aforementioned 'pretty girls'. Still, she did rarely try a smile on in front of the mirror, just to test it, but never found herself tempted to buy. She laid out several carrots and two potatoes on the counter and began to idly chop them up into small, organised, matching pieces. Soup - soup would be a pleasant meal today. It was in this moment of calm that she recalled the reason she had been unable to thread her needle properly, and instantly found herself bothered by it.

The Forest of Magic was not widely inhabited. It was considered by most outsiders to be a dangerous place to stay in for long. This certainly had an amount of truth to it, but Alice had remained in residence there for many years with no ill affect. She had only one neighbour, and it was this girl whom she saw most often of anyone. That girl was Marisa; an ordinary witch who enjoyed the quiet of living there. Alice had always been surprised by this, due to the heavy contrast the lonely forest had with Marisa's everyday life. Perhaps though, that was why. Marisa was well-liked by more people than Alice spoke to in a month. They were different. They had different hobbies and different fancies. The witch spent a lot of her time away from her house, working and socializing. Alice only worked, and she worked at home. When Marisa was to be found in the forest, she would quite often drop by Alice's house to say hello, perhaps to bother her, and occasionally to steal some of her friend's rare items.

Alice paused her thoughts, realising she had felt for a moment the word 'friend' blossom in her mind. She was not sure if it was accurate of their relationship. Indeed, she was usually rather rude to her neighbour. Neighbour, she decided, was the better term. She glanced off for a moment with the knife frozen in her hand. Her skilled fingers were able to complete the dinner preparations without her focus, but she wanted to be still. She was stuck on a particular memory which hid in a groove of the day's record, forcing her to replay it over and over again. That morning, shortly after Alice had eaten her breakfast, Marisa had appeared outside her window. She had gestured to be let in at the door, grinning in her usual way, which was politely commanding. With an overemphasized sigh, Alice had obliged her; pulling the door open wide and placing a hand delicately on her hip.

"Hello Alice, how are you today?" Marisa was not often concerned with social graces unless she wanted something. She was boyish and plain of speech. If she was ever putting on airs, suspicions should be raised. Alice had engaged her in small talk for a short while before flatly asking if she required anything. Marisa's smile wobbled slightly and she laughed her one short burst. "So to-the-point, Alice! I need a favour."

"What might that be?" Alice pursed her lips, taking great care to retain an annoyed appearance. She wondered if Marisa suspected she had disturbed her, but knowing the girl, she would not be thinking beyond her own needs.

"I need help with a new spell I'm trying to perfect." Marisa's grin graduated to charming, even though they both saw through it. Alice was certain Marisa knew that her charisma was not effective against her, and that the charmed smiles and tinkling laughter were merely a game of habit rather than persuasion. She felt that, despite her rudeness towards the girl, Marisa was somehow respectful of her. This new request convinced her of it, and her heart swelled a little, pushing a smile onto her face. There were many fine magicians in Gensokyo. Alice knew for a fact that Marisa had been away from the forest earlier, and so it was not merely a case of convenience that she had been asked. Her smiled loosened enough to show the little pearls of white in her mouth; about as rare as seeing real pearls in oysters.

"Oh! I'd..." Alice held her tongue. She could not bring herself to gush. Quickly she withdrew her smile, hoping Marisa had been in her own world and had not appreciated it. Instead she raised an eyebrow and let her tone carry a little scoff. "You know my magic is very specialised, Marisa. Why didn't you ask Patchouli?" Patchouli was Marisa's usual source of knowledge, although unwillingly perhaps, as Marisa tended to borrow the librarian's vast collection of magical texts without asking. Thinking about this, Alice realised Marisa must need real help if she was unable to find appropriate answers in a book. She could be genuinely useful to her.

"I did ask Patchouli. She told me to leave her alone, and to wipe my feet on the way out." Marisa's laughter rang again, but rushed over Alice's head. The girl felt her spirits sink as she realised she was a mere second choice. Actually, maybe Marisa had asked others after Patchouli as well. She imagined her rushing all around Gensokyo, panickedly begging help from everyone and anyone she saw, falling lower and lower down her priority list until, eventually, she disdainfully had to ask the odd neighbour; carving a fixed expression of eagerness into her face, forcing laughter, trying to put Alice at ease and hoping that the magician could at least give her some help, even if she would later have to check it with Patchouli in case her spell backfired. Alice's eyes narrowed as she inspected Marisa's face. She seemed honest and light enough, but she was lying. Alice felt it.

"I'm working on something of my own right now, please leave me in peace," she muttered through clenched teeth and, to the sounds of Marisa's quick apologies, shut the door tightly.

The events had bothered her for the rest of the day. As she settled herself in a chair with her bowl of warm soup, she mocked her own gullibility. Marisa did not think of her as a powerful magician. Probably not even a wise one. When the two had faced each other in battles of magic before, Marisa had always been the victor. What bothered Alice was that Marisa was not more powerful than her. She had more brute strength, but that was it. Alice was, she thought spitefully, a stronger magician than Patchouli as well. She was than many. Marisa did not see her for that. She teased her and poked fun at the manners Alice carried about her. The guarded sensibilities she held. Marisa was pig-headed.

Sipping from the spoon, Alice internally complimented her cooking. Another small thing she was good at that the world was ignorant to. Why, she wondered, scolding herself as she did so, was Marisa so ignorant to her good qualities? She wished she didn't care.


	2. The Entrepreneur Magician in the Field

**Two. – The Entrepreneur Magician in the Field**

_The Magician of Red Dreams is ignorant to the dreams of others._

A few days had passed since Marisa had asked her neighbour for help with her latest project. In that time, she had wandered past Alice's house several times, but had not seen her sitting by any of the windows. Marisa tended not to knock at the door in case Alice was genuinely busy and she disrupted her. She liked to make sure she was not taking Alice away from anything important, so she only bothered her at home when she could see her, if nothing was urgent. She felt that Alice's lack of appearances lately showed that they were fighting, though about what exactly Marisa could not be certain. She assumed that she had offended her.

Alice must have suspected that Marisa was trying to manipulate her into revealing some private magical secrets. She remembered the upset her 'Shoot the Moon' manoeuvre had caused between them. It was fair enough, she thought; she was not the most trustworthy of people. She only wished Alice had shared Patchouli's rejection in the form of a quick denial, followed by a glare. Alice never admitted her true feelings; she was the rightful queen of passive aggression.

Marisa sighed to herself, shaking her head, and returning to her business. She had given up hope of a reconciliation any time soon, and seeing as there was no-one else she could think of asking for help, she had began the slower process of completing her spell alone. She stood in a plain field, with grass bothering her ankles just above where her socks ended. Her feet were set apart in an attacker's stance. There shouldn't be anyone within eye or ear shot. Carefully, muttering as she did so, she changed the position of her hands. Her lips began to peel back into a smile, but her moment of joy was broken when nothing happened. She let out a human curse - a sign she was truly irritated. This spell card was useless, but she couldn't figure out the problem. If Alice had only helped her out a little...

Suddenly it hit her, and she laughed across the empty field at her stupidity in not realising the problem until this moment. Her focus had been stolen by Alice's bad mood. She could not face the difficulty of training herself in the ways of a new spell when she was distracted. She would need to go and sort things out at once.

Hovering close to the ground, Marisa glided along on her broomstick in the direction of the Forest of Magic. She was quite a way out and knew she would probably not be there for another half an hour. However, knowing that she was returning earlier than usual, she hoped to catch Alice unawares and spot the girl sitting by the window. After she had accepted that Alice was deliberately avoiding her, Marisa had decided that she would probably still take her favourite place by the window during the day, when Marisa was not usually around. Hopefully she was correct. The wind, for it was a windy day, was treating her cruelly, and she wanted to already be there. The faster she rode, the harsher the wind became in pulling on her hair, so she settled for a brisk and steady glide. Just as the wind was beginning to calm down a little for her, she noticed the Scarlet Mansion ease past on her left. She glanced over at it, and caught sight of Patchouli who had also noticed her, and who was standing in between the gates. She cut her momentum and dismounted her broom, approaching.

"Hello Patchouli," she said cheerfully. Patchouli nodded at her and returned the greeting. Marisa realised that, despite being outside, Patchouli wore her usual nightgown. "Have you been outside?" she enquired, feeling it to be foolishly obvious, but hoping to find out what she had been doing without prying.

"I was merely collecting a parcel which Meiling fetched for me," Patchouli offered, appreciating Marisa's poorly disguised curiosity. Marisa smiled a little at that, knowing that Patchouli was one of the few who ever referred to the mansion's gatekeeper by her real name. She was yet to decide whether it was out of the spirit of respect and friendship, or if the librarian simply lacked the emotive responses to be purposefully rude. Or maybe it was just a sign that the purple-haired girl remembered everything - even her name was Knowledge.

"Books?" Marisa smirked. She was teasing, which Patchouli may or may not have picked up on, but either way she narrowed her eyes and clutched the now obvious package to her body. Patchouli was as defensive of her books around Marisa as an animal with its children, but the witch still managed to liberate some now and then. She did wonder how the librarian always managed to find out when some had been taken. She had images of the girl counting every single volume, even tucking them into bed at night. She giggled a little under her breath.

"For teaching," Patchouli answered coldly. Her eyes returned to their normal width and her tone thawed. "I was thinking again about your request. If you would still like for me to help you with your spell, then I shall, if you promise to stay away from my library." Marisa beamed, Alice forgotten for the moment. She nodded quickly, tucking a hand subtly behind her skirt and crossing the fingers of it. Patchouli mumbled something about having to take the parcel up to the house, and to wait there, which Marisa did eagerly.

A short while later, the two were positioned in the mansion's gardens. Marisa stood opposite Patchouli, who had gone through some details with her. Now, adopting her stance and readying her hands, Marisa turned away from the other girl. She leaned back into her position and began to mutter. She was both pleased and disappointed when a small sputter of sparks shot from her fingertips; it was a start, at least. She made one more attempt, but improved precious little. Before she could try a third time, Patchouli was beside her, peering closely at her hands.

"I think you need to focus more," she suggested, picking up on what Marisa had felt earlier. The witch sighed to herself. So she would have to visit her neighbour after all. Realising she hadn't responded, she nodded in a serious manner before glancing at the girl next to her. Patchouli held her default and perhaps only accessible expression. She looked disinterested, bored, slightly sullen. Her purple eyes were sour grapes set deep in her face. Marisa wondered when she had last been happy. Maybe she was happy now? The girl was a social recluse, after all. She might not understand how to show it. Marisa imagined her reading book after book on such topics as smiling and laughter; her brow furrowed in awkward concentration, unable to grasp why these things happened, or mattered. She pictured Patchouli forcing an uncomfortable and nigh on grotesque grimace onto her face as Sakuya, the mansion's maid, served her tea in the library – only to drop it in horror at the smile. Marisa unconsciously giggled before realising she'd actually been daydreaming for a few moments and that the subject was staring at her.

"I need to get back," Marisa offered in lieu of explanation before turning on her tail and speeding off. She left Patchouli to click her tongue, and make her way back to her sanctuary in peace to inspect her new books.

By the time Marisa had found her way back down the pathway to her and Alice's homes, she knew that it was dark above the smothering canopy of trees. There were some lights flittering about in the edges of her vision, which she suspected were either insects or possibly some unpleasant forest dwelling creatures trying to trap her. As a resident, nothing in the Forest of Magic really tried to harm her, but she might still be at risk if she were foolish. She was just a human, after all. She hastened her gait. A few minutes later, she was within the friendly glow of Alice's house. There were some lights on inside, which meant that Alice was still awake, if nothing else. She hesitated, unable to see her neighbour in the window and unwilling to knock. She jumped when the door opened from no effort on her part and revealed the owner of the house.

"Can I help you, Marisa?" Alice asked boredly. Her eyelids hung low, implying quite deliberately that she was already tired of the conversation. However, her hair was neatly kept and her dress properly adjusted, so Marisa wondered if she had in fact seen her coming and prepared this expression just for her. Whether that was true or not, she smiled.

"I just wanted to say hello. We haven't seen each other for a few days." Marisa felt Alice's eyes brush over her, even though she could hardly see them move. She guessed that the doll-maker wanted to know where she'd been. She was probably curious as to whether or not she'd been working on the spell card.

"I see," Alice stated stiffly. There was a pause, where both seemed to wait for the other to speak, but as soon as Marisa began to, Alice continued with "The weather's been good today." Neither of them let it show on their face that what was really being asked was closer to 'so what have you been doing outside all day?', but both knew the other knew. It was just a little dance, a show.

"I've been working on my spell," Marisa told her honestly. She didn't see any point in mixing words. She was trying to make amends, after all. Alice nodded slowly without smiling. She wanted to know more, so Marisa briefly recounted her progress, if it were to be so called. At the end of the story, Alice seemed no more pleased. If anything, Marisa felt she might be irritated. This made her want to scold her lack of success with the spell card all the more. Alice was a clever magician, and clearly Marisa's failure was embarrassing to her on some level, as a parent watching the tragic performance of a clumsy child trying to learn to dance.

Finally, Alice replied with "That's good. I'm glad Patchouli helped you in the end." At that, Marisa was a little confused. She wasn't dumb to the venom in her neighbour's voice. She made a brief bit of small talk before saying goodnight and walking the short way to her own house, still pondering the comment. It seemed spiteful. She did not know why. Alice was as oddly mannered as usual. Marisa only hoped that this counted as making up.


	3. The Violet Teacher in the Library

**Three. – The Violet Teacher in the Library**

_To be an immovable force is power, but it does not inspire much consideration._

It was late - much later already than Patchouli had realised. She finished carefully stowing her precious books away in their places, then prepared a stack of doubled, much less valuable editions on her desk where they would be an obvious lure in case Marisa decided to sneak in and help herself. She trifled with a minor smirk before neatly setting the dinner tray Sakuya had brought her earlier on the edge of the desk, ready to be collected. Finally, she made her way up the stairs that lay hidden in a secluded section of shelves to her minimal sleeping space. She did not sleep as often as most people, and many seemed to believe she didn't sleep at all. It had been almost two days since she'd last slept and she wanted to sharpen her mind.

Her bedroom, though it was an overstatement to call it that, contained a simple futon, a wardrobe with a handful of spare outfits which she never wore unless instructed, and a potted plant that had been a gift from Meiling long, long ago. She glanced at the plant that drooped over the rim of its pot, brown at its edges and curling as if in pain. It was still alive, as she did water it very occasionally, but anyone would think she let it live only to watch it suffer. It bore a solitary flower of a golden colour, though it was dimmer than it had been. It was the same buttery shade as Marisa's hair. Patchouli idly plucked a petal from the flower and rolled it between her pale fingers. She removed her nightcap as she did not like to sleep with it on, and crawled onto her futon to sleep.

The next morning, after making her way down to the library, Patchouli caught sight of two things; firstly, that Sakuya had refilled her breakfast tray for her, and secondly that the pile on the desk was slightly smaller than the previous night. Marisa must have taken something. She tut-ed aloud – acting, in her own way. She was not particularly bothered by the theft. She jumped a little when the maid's voice wafted over.

"I'm sorry if breakfast does not appeal to you, miss." As the words were spoken, Sakuya seemed to peel out of the shadows where she had been standing. She must have only just dropped off the tray, and had been on her way out. Patchouli, if she had been someone different, would have blushed. As it was, she merely looked at the woman across the room and wondered if Sakuya had been lying in wait. Of course, there was no reason for her to have been.

"I was referring to a missing book," Patchouli explained. She took the opportunity to inspect her breakfast, and saw that Sakuya had brought her some French pastries and tea. The pastries she received were usually fluffy and lovely. Again, if she had been someone different, she would have smiled.

"Very well, then I hope you enjoy your meal." Sakuya bowed her head with the lightest gesture and made her way out of the room. Her silver plaits spun in a little circle as she turned. Patchouli sat at her desk and perused her breakfast, settling into a slow moving pattern of eating and flipping through the titles she had piled before. She eventually decided that Marisa had taken an old recipe book. The book had been written in an extinct fairy language, so there was no doubt Marisa wouldn't understand what it was. If she ever did manage to translate it, she would be able to make an excellent flan. At this, Patchouli really did smile, even if it was light and brief. She imagined Marisa pouring over the mottled pages in her cluttered drawing room, her tongue sticking out with frustration as she tried desperately to make sense of things from the pictures. A sketch of a vanilla flower – so it was a spell? She should get vanilla flowers, but what else? How many? This scribbly character looks almost like a six. She would mutter with exasperation, and Patchouli would know that she had won a small, amusing victory. And then, perhaps, Marisa would drag the book to Alice Margatroid and beg her to translate it. Alice would take a look at it and scold Marisa's stupidity. She would inform her that she had been had; that it was a recipe book and not a tome of powerful magical spells at all. Marisa would smile sheepishly and the two would make up... Patchouli's face settled into a deep frown, which was not too far off her standard expression.

Sometime later, Patchouli became aware of voices echoing in the hallway outside her hideaway. As she listened for a moment, she realised it was her friend Remilia, the mistress of the mansion. Even though Remilia had quite an advantage in years, it would be impossible to tell just by looking at the two of them. Patchouli stood about half a foot taller than her landlord, and her face lacked the youthful roundness that was frozen in Remilia's. Although Remilia acted quite childish much of the time, something she was easily able to get away with due to her appearance, there were moments when she seemed to be a truly matured woman; rare glimpses into her buried self. At these times it was obvious why she was the head of the household. In general, Patchouli did not think of her in such a way, as she was also the small vampire's teacher. When Remilia was grumbling about her reading assignment, it was hard to see her as the grown woman that resided within the child's form. Bearing this image in her head, Patchouli moved towards the door to let her in.

Remilia stood across the hallway from the door with a small, slightly mischievous smile. She wore her usual pastel pink blouse and skirt, with her hat sitting as neatly as ever atop her head. She always seemed so clean for someone who ate blood, Patchouli thought. Pushing the door open, she allowed Remilia to come in, and in doing so noticed Flandre standing a little way down the corridor. Flandre seemed absent-minded, daydreaming, and her simple red dress hid the little splotches of blood well but not completely. Patchouli called her over, and the three of them made their way to the desk. It was not every lesson that her friend's sister joined them, and she was not sure if she had anything prepared for that today.

"What will we be studying today?" Remilia asked on cue. Patchouli ignored the question as she searched her shelves, which did not seem to trouble the girl. She sat with Flan and waited patiently. After a few minutes, Patchouli returned from her mission with a human mathematics book that she placed in between the two vampires, turning it to a specific page. Remilia glanced boredly at the lines of equations and began as soon as she was given a clean sheet of paper. Flandre started more slowly, and asked far more questions. After two hours, they had both completed the chapter, though Patchouli knew Remilia's would be vastly more correct. Flandre had trouble paying attention for too long when it came to academic subjects. Patchouli saw them both out and returned to her desk alone.

She put away the teaching materials and then, sitting back down, let herself do something unusual. She merely let herself think, without reading anything at the same time. Typically she only did this when she needed to puzzle something complicated out. She couldn't really tell what she was trying to sort out, exactly. All she knew was that she kept coming back to the image of Marisa's hands forming her spell pose. It was not even Marisa, just her hands, making the twitchy motions she did when casting a spell repeated over and over. It was odd. She felt that she was concerned with why the spell card had not been effective. After all, she'd been helping Marisa, so the failure was hers to share. That was the logical answer.

Patchouli moved in and out of the daydream, allowing it to take most of her attention. She moved delicately past the hand image, and saw Marisa standing against a dark background. She was dimly aware of stars behind her, but was sure they were the result of Marisa's spell. It had been successful. Marisa smiled; she said Patchouli's name. The magician stepped cautiously towards the witch, entering into her own fantasy. Marisa thanked her for helping with the spell, and Patchouli found her fictitious self blushing, smiling, and telling her how welcome she was. As Marisa placed her hands onto Patchouli's shoulders, the real girl shook herself back to reality. She quickly lifted the nearest book from its pile and began to read furiously. She was scolding herself inside.

As a girl who always appeared to be collected, the librarian was bothered by her slip in focus. She swore to be less dozy. Her attentions should remain stoic and immovable.


	4. The Lonely Doll Maker in the Curio Shop

**Four. – The Lonely Doll-Maker in the Curio Shop**

_What treasures do we pass over ignorantly in our everyday world?_

Delicately poised and deliberately posed, Alice sat stiff-backed in her chair faced away from the window. The chair had originally been tilted so that she could see out, but after catching herself falling into trances watching for movement outside, she had turned it around. There was, after all, no point. She had not been able to fully escape the trap of hopeful curiosity, which was the reason her position seemed so fake. She attempted to look aloof to the world and busy, just in case she was spotted, but in her overzealousness she merely seemed rigid. If Marisa had walked past, which she had thus far not, she would have asked if she was all right. Eventually accepting this, Alice decided to go out. She checked her cupboards and realised she needed to stock up on vegetables anyway. With a brief nod to the weather, she laced herself into her old brown boots and made her way into the forest.

As she adopted a stroll, appreciating the pleasant and familiar scenery of the forest, it took her longer than usual to reach the market. Looking around, she saw no-one she particularly wished to speak to. There were not too many people about as it was, and certainly none of her closer acquaintances. She noticed a small gaggle of humans loitering outside a storefront, all of them girls, probably teenagers. A few of them laughed and whispered to each other as another, standing slightly away and perhaps not part of the group, smiled. She looked as though she was waiting to be drawn into the banter. Alice shook her head quickly and entered the nearest shop.

With her package of vegetables tucked neatly under her arm, her job finished, Alice approached the entrance to the Forest of Magic once more. As she neared, she began to hear cries. Speeding up, she discovered they were coming from the rarely noticed shop that sat just outside the trees. Although she passed it every single time she went to and from her home, Alice never paid the slightest bit of attention to Kourindou. It was easy to forget it even existed. Her heart had jumped, suddenly full of adrenaline at the idea of a fight, but with the shop now in sight, she unwillingly relaxed. The cries were hailing from the excited form of Aya, who hovered just above the wooden slats of the porch. Her cries faded into the familiar sound of her voice. She appeared to be calling out to the owner, who must be just inside the door. Alice could not see in.

"Oh, you'll never make any money this way, you know!" she chirped, in an appropriately bird-like manner. After apparently hearing a response, she laughed once more and soared away; her dark wings a brief shadow across the clouds, like a scarf torn from a careless neck. Curious now, Alice headed towards the shop's entrance. Before she crossed the threshold, it occurred to her that she had not actually been inside Kourindou, despite its convenient location, for many many years. She took the step forward.

The shop smelled odd. It smelt dully of incense and wood and old paper, as is to be expected, but it also had the sting of metal that was almost a taste, and some other strange, fake smell that Alice could not recognise. With hardly a turn of her head across the many shelves, she realised she recognised perhaps only a third of the items that sat, awaiting validation and appraisal, and even then, she felt this was only because she was very well-read. Turning to the counter, she jumped, visibly, to see the shopkeeper looking silently at her. He had been so quiet she had entirely forgotten he was there, although she had assumed he was and her surprise was foolish. She internally scolded the overreaction, and frowned to compensate. The shopkeeper smiled in a light, detached, but honest way back at her and said nothing, waiting for her approach. Taking a moment to pretend to look at the merchandise, she went to stand before the counter.

"Good day," she offered politely, although she remained unfriendly in her body language. She realised, only slightly horrified, that she had long since forgotten his name. She stared, analysing him for any memory trigger, but none came, and she unhappily dismissed it. Patiently, he waited, as if aware of her mental process. He adjusted the square glasses that sat at the edge of his nose, never seeming hurried, and always with the absent smile.

"Welcome to Kourindou. I am Morichika Rinnosuke." He said it in a way that suggested he was all too aware of his forgettable nature, and that he was willing to smooth over it early on. Alice was relieved, but she didn't show it. "Are you looking for anything in particular, Miss Margatroid..?" At the use of her own name, Alice flushed. Her manners were behind, it seemed, if this man remembered her and she had been unable to pay the same courtesy. Recovering, she shrugged her shoulders in a small movement. She had only entered to satisfy her curiosity; she wasn't entirely certain what this place sold. Rinnosuke stood, lifted the barrier between their two spaces, stepped into the main shop, and closed the partition behind him. Paying attention to him properly now, Alice realised that he was taller than she had thought. A stand-up tuft of silver hair almost brushed the ceiling where he stood. He motioned to a near shelf.

"We have some interesting new antiques from the outside world here that were brought in recently." Alice looked, and felt, from the thin but sure glaze of dust that sat on the closest items, that recently meant something different here. The shopkeeper lifted a strange gilded clock from its resting place and, speaking mostly to himself, he began to discuss it. This was repeated with several items as he worked along the shelf, and as Alice did not stop him, offering a slight bit of attention by nodding now and then, it looked unlikely to end. This man, she felt, was more interested in discussing the wares than selling them. She felt that this was what Aya had referred to. She did not mind; he had an agreeable voice, reminiscent of a father who poured over a storybook too complicated for its young audience, but with a delight that forgave the content. It was good to have pleasant company for once. Finally and surprisingly, as her focus tuned in, she found herself genuinely interested in one of the 'antiques'. It was a large item, and as such Rinnosuke had not picked it up. He gestured to it as he droned on about its history, which apparently he knew far too much about. It looked heavy; a fat cube of wood with a handle jutting from its side. She would have suspected it a jewellery box if not for the angry-looking metal throat that curved snake-like from the base. Her eyes were drawn to the neatly pressed metal that opened out into a bloated flower shape. After hearing much useless information about the device, she was told it was called a phonograph. It was from the outside world, and was, although she didn't believe it, an instrument of sorts. At this point she could not help but ask how such a strange thing worked. Shocked that she had actually been listening, Rinnosuke retreated to another part of the shop. He dug around for a few minutes and returned with a thin disk, which he placed carefully on top of the player. Alice watched him fiddle with it until, with a true flourish, music poured forth from the mouth of the device. Her mouth sat just slightly open as she took it in. The music was peculiar in itself; it had a grainy quality that she had not heard in music before. And yet, it was quite a lovely piece; the melancholy sound of a solitary piano. A lonely sound.

"How much would you like for this?" she asked. There was a pause, after which Rinnosuke simply said 'what?'. She repeated her question, but he seemed no less surprised. Eventually, recovering from the apparent disbelief at selling something, he asked her what she was willing to part with. Alice became aware again of her package of vegetables, which sat uncomfortably under her arm. From a pocket she withdrew her purse, which had contained just enough to cover her food purchase and now held only a couple of pennies. She thought about returning home to get money, but knew she did not have very much there. Besides that, she wanted the phonograph now. She had an immense greed for it, and for the music. She did not want to wait. Catching on her hesitation, he cleared his throat.

"As you can tell, I take great pleasure in collecting strange objects. I would be happy to accept a trade." Alice felt no better off for this, unless he desperately wanted some local vegetables. It then occurred to her that she might have a bargaining chip. She smiled with a slight hint of deviousness.

"I will give you one of my Shanghai dolls, if you'd like." She expected that she would have to explain this, but Rinnosuke instantly clapped his hands together with delight. He must have known of her magical style, she felt, and wondered if this was from observation or hearsay. Despite what many people thought, she had plenty of Shanghais. It was a generic, and not pet, name. However, she had never before given one away. She guarded her magic quite carefully. Looking over this shop and its owner, she doubted her magic style was at risk.

"Excellent," he chimed. "I will deliver the item directly to your house, and we can make the trade there." Alice immediately agreed, pleased as well that she would not even have to carry the phonograph all the way home. Today had been gaily productive.

The two made their way through the forest towards Alice's house, with Rinnosuke supporting the heavy record player tightly against his chest. As they did so, the doll-maker wished for just a moment, with a flicker of her heart, that Marisa saw them and misinterpreted the situation entirely.


End file.
